


Honest & Straightforward

by Euphorion



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, enjoy this unrepentent sap, there's literally no plot so like. yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euphorion/pseuds/Euphorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Momo asks Nitori for advice about a girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honest & Straightforward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bouquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouquet/gifts).



> Needed a break from writing ridiculously plotty complicated angsty KnB fics so I wrote this to cheer up a friend! Hope it makes all y'all smile as well.

“Ugh.”

Nitori looked up from his reading, waiting to see if the expression of disgust from the top bunk was the beginning of a conversation or just a general dissatisfied grunt. When Momo didn’t say anything else, he looked back at his notes.

“Ugh!!”

_That_ was an ugh with feeling. Nitori sighed and braced himself for the inevitable.

“Nitori-senpaaai.”

Nitori closed his notebook. “What’s wrong, Momo-kun?”

Momo’s upside-down head appeared over the edge of the bed, wild-haired as always. He held up his phone. “Will you help me respond to this text?”

Nitori reached out and took the phone, turning it right-side up so he could read it. It said: “hey”. He blinked and looked at the sender. “Who’s Yumi-chan?”

Momo waved his arms. “She’s this super cute girl I met at the library and she was holding this book on marine biology and I got really excited and I was like oh I love that book even though I’d never read it and she was like really? and I was like yeah! and she was like would you want to help me out sometime because I’m actually really struggling with this class? and I was like YEAH!! and then she gave me her number and now she’s texting me and I have no idea what to say!”

“Oh,” said Nitori. Helping Momo with girls was not something he’d ever considered having to do, but it did seem a pretty senpai-like duty. He bit his lip, thinking.

Momo squinted at him, looking worried. “Should I tell about how much I love stag beetles? That’s kinda what I was thinking about going with.”

“Could you not just say hey back?” Nitori ventured, completely out of his depth. “I think stag beetles might be like. Second-date material.”

Momo sighed and dropped head-first off the edge of his bed. Nitori yelped, but the younger boy caught himself adeptly on his hands, balancing for a minute in a handstand. His shirt fell down around his face, leaving Nitori staring at his abs for a weird moment before he flopped over and levered himself up onto his feet like a very slow back-handspring. He wobbled a little on his heels and then stretched his arms up to the sky in victory, turning to grin wide at Nitori.

Nitori quirked his eyebrows at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“What’s the point of getting out of bed if you’re gonna do it the same way all the time?” Momo said dismissively, and then put his hands on his hips. “Anyway. I’m worried if I just say hey she’ll think I’m not interested or interesting or something!”

Nitori licked his lips. “You could ask her how she is,” he suggested, and then sighed. “I’m sorry, Momo-kun, this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

Momo stuck out his lower lip at him in a puzzled kind of pout. “What are you talking about, senpai? You’re so cute, you must’ve had loads of girlfriends.”

Nitori felt himself go red. “Not, um. N-not really,” he said, meaning _not at all, and anyway I wouldn’t want girlfriends_. “Maybe you should ask Rin-senpai about this?”

Momo shook his head furiously. “Last time I asked Rin-senpai about girls he kicked me!”

“Last time you asked Rin-senpai about girls you were asking about his sister,” Nitori pointed out.

Momo’s pout deepened. “Still!” he insisted. “He’s _scary._ ” His eyes were huge and pleading. “Please, senpai?”

Nitori sighed. Rin wasn’t—not really, anyway, not once you knew him. Nitori still got horribly, heart-stoppingly nervous around him sometimes but it wasn’t because he was _scared._ “Okay,” he said, “you said she was studying marine biology, right? What if you ask her what her favorite sea creature is?”

Momo took an amazed breath, his whole face going bright and pleased. “That’s _perfect!_ ” he crowed, and crossed back over to the bed to take back his phone. Nitori held it out to him but Momo leaned in past his arm and wrapped him up in a quick, tight hug. “Thanks, senpai,” he said softly in Nitori’s ear, and then let him go, plucking his phone out of Nitori’s hand and scrambling back up onto his bed.

Nitori ran a hand through his hair, his heart beating strangely in his chest, and went back to his reading. 

Twenty minutes later, Momo crowed, “she likes _squids!_ Haha! Gross!”

+

Momo and Yumi-chan made a study date, and Nitori came home to find him standing in front of the closet mirror in his boxers, both hands over his face. He froze in the doorway. Half the time he saw Momo they were both in swimsuits so seeing him half-naked wasn’t new or weird—but—this was different, and maybe Momo didn’t want him to see, and—sometimes he felt bad for not coming out to him because maybe he would care. Maybe he would want to be more careful around him, maybe he wouldn’t want to be so tactile and so shameless.

Maybe. Maybe he wouldn’t want to room with him anymore, and so he _couldn’t_. The thought of that wall going up between them made him feel nauseous and shaky and scared.

Momo peeked through his fingers at him, and then immediately threw himself forward to drape across his shoulders. “Senpaai I don’t know what to _wear!_ ”

Nitori patted him awkwardly on the back. His skin was warm. “Do, um. Do you want me to help?”

Momo nodded into his shoulder and then pulled away, and Nitori leaned against the end of their bed and watched him as he pulled clothes seemingly at random from his drawers. Everything he owned seemed to be some shade of neon, predominantly yellow and green, and Nitori shook his head. How could any one person be so consistently sunny? Winter was setting in over Samezuka and Momo was like the living embodiment of one of those lamps that stored up solar energy over the summer to keep you happy in the cold. 

“Senpai?” he prompted, and Nitori shook himself, focusing on the shirts he was holding up. One of them was orange with a giant yellow sunflower in the middle; the other was a plain loose tee in bright pink. To Nitori’s admittedly unpracticed eye, neither of them seemed like something to wear to impress a girl.

Nitori bit his lip. “Can I look through your things?”

Momo nodded without hesitation, dashing past him to hop up into his bed and watch, and Nitori crossed to his drawers. “Have you told her yet that you haven’t read that book?” he asked, rummaging through Momo’s shirts.

“Uhhhhhh,” said Momo, “no?” He swung his legs a little. “I was thinking I could steal it.”

Nitori glanced at him, eyebrows up. “Steal it?”

“Yeah!” Momo grinned at him. “I’m a master thief! Also the library only has one copy and I don’t know how I’m gonna read it without her knowing, so I thought I’d steal it from her today and read it real quick and then sneak it back to her!”

“That sounds… improbable,” Nitori said, and found what he was looking for. He crossed to the bed, holding out the shirt to Momo. “If you really like this girl, you should tell her the truth,” he said. “Honesty’s the best basis for any relationship, don’t you think?” He held out the shirt. “Try this.”

Momo stared at him unblinking for a minute. “Honesty,” he echoed, like it had never occurred to him, and Nitori felt suddenly and terribly self-conscious, hypocritical. He licked his lips and Momo seemed to blink himself awake, reaching out to take the shirt from him. “This?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. “Senpai, it’s too small.”

Nitori shook his head. “You want it to be kinda tight,” he explained. “You’re an athlete, you should be showing off your body more.” He flushed a little at his own phrasing, but it was true, and Momo _had_ asked his advice.

Momo looked sideways at him, dubious, and then shrugged, hopping down from his perch to pull on the shirt. It was sky blue with a subtle wave pattern and it _was_ tight, but attractively so—Momo rolled his shoulders and it stretched across the muscles of his back and Nitori took a minute to give himself a mental high-five. 

“I look ridiculous,” Momo complained, fiddling with his hair.

Nitori shook his head. “You don’t,” he said. “Put on dark jeans or something and you’ll see, the boxers are distracting.”

Momo did, hopping up and down a little, and Nitori—guilty, self-indulgent—watched him. Momo buttoned his pants and twisted, looking at himself from the side, from the back, and then said, “Huh.”

Nitori stepped up behind him, smiling into his eyes in the mirror. “See?” he said. “Not too bright, not too tight, and she can see you’re all buff.” He patted Momo’s shoulders.

Momo shifted to sling his arm around Nitori’s neck and pulled him sideways, pressing his mouth hard against his cheek in something that was half headbutt and half kiss. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, voice warm, and then he was sliding away and out the door. “I’m gonna be late! Bye, Nitori-senpai!!”

Nitori took a long breath, staring himself in the eyes until his blush faded.

+

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Momo was always hanging all over him and everyone else, hugging and high-fiving and everything, so it wasn’t like a kiss on the cheek was much of a stretch from his normal behavior, so it really wouldn’t have been a big deal, except he _kept doing it._

They were studying at the library and Momo got up to get a drink of water and brushed his lips over Nitori’s cheek absently, in passing. They were getting ready for bed and Momo passed him on the way back from the bathroom and pressed a minty kiss to his cheekbone. They were stretching before practice and Momo, his legs tangled in some complicated, probably-yoga pose, leaned toward him, overbalanced, and gamely kissed him on the ear before throwing all his limbs wide like a starfish and racing away.

Maybe it meant Nitori had passed through some kind of—of gate, entered into the inner sanctum of Momo’s friendships. Maybe he did this with everyone he felt close to. Maybe it was just a _thing_ , now, and Nitori really needed to stop thinking about it so much.

“Has Momo been hanging out with Nagisa lately?” Rin asked, stepping up beside him.

Nitori blinked at him. “Not that I know of.”

Rin watched Momo launch himself into the pool. “Seems like he picked up some of his seduction techniques, is all.”

Nitori raised his eyebrows, surprised. “You saw him with Yumi-chan? When?”

“Who?” Rin asked, frowning at him.

“What?” asked Nitori.

“Rin,” said Sousuke from behind them. “We gonna start, or what?”

Rin ruffled a hand through Nitori’s hair, amused and reassuring both, and turned away. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Nitori watched Momo do somersaults, smiling at the joy caught in every line of his body.

+

When Nitori actually met Yumi-chan she was absolutely nothing like he expected.

His only frame of reference for who Momo liked was Gou, so he was expecting basically her: long hair, heart-shaped face, enthusiasm and intelligence and a deep, driving motivation to be the best. A scaled down, scheming version of Rin. Nitori understood being attracted to that, after all. 

But Yumi was tiny, with black hair cropped close to her head and six piercings in her left ear and three in her right. She had a lilting, musical kind of voice and a very serious face, which meant that the first several very dry, very funny jokes she made sailed right over Nitori’s head. Nitori decided he really liked her; she was a good, slowing balance to Momo’s hyperactivity. They slotted together well, heads bent over a copy of Rare Insects of the Amazon, and that night Nitori lay staring up at the top bunk and tried not to feel weird about the fact that Momo hadn’t kissed him all day.

“Hey,” said Momo softly in the darkness. “Are you awake?”

Nitori licked his lips. “Yeah,” he said after a minute.

Momo slid out of bed and onto his knees on the floor next to him. The lights were off, but moonlight filtered in through the window, casting him in greyscale, his eyes pale and luminous in his face. “So,” he said, voice still uncharacteristically soft. “You know how there’s like. That formal dance, next weekend?”

Nitori shifted onto his side, propping his head up on one hand to look at him. “Yes,” he said, prompting. “What about it?”

Momo stared at him, and then at his knees. He had his hands clenched into fists on his thighs and it was hard to tell, in the dark, but he looked like he was blushing.

Nitori smiled softly at him. “Are you nervous about asking Yumi?”

Momo blinked. For a second he stayed frozen, and then he looked up and grinned. It was huge and joyful but something about the moonlight made it look—off, weirdly empty. “Yeah,” he said, louder now. “Yeah, do you—do you have any advice?”

Nitori lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think she’s pretty comfortable with you,” he said. “You guys seemed really natural today, you should probably just be straightforward about it.”

Momo licked his lips and nodded firmly. “Straightforward,” he echoed. He looked down at his hands again, his fingers toying with the hem of his shorts. “Senpai, um, are—are you gonna go?”

Nitori blinked at him. “I wasn’t planning on it, really,” he admitted, a little embarrassed. “Do you think I should?”

Momo nodded immediately, still not meeting his eyes. “You definitely should,” he said, and then, quicker, gathering steam, “I mean, like. Can you? Because we are pretty comfortable with each other and everything but dances are different and I’m really nervous about it and it would be so nice if you were there to back me up and I would really, really, really appreciate it.” He raised his eyes and there was a kind of longing in them that Nitori had never seen before, a longing at odds with the simplicity of his request. It pulled Nitori’s heart forward and up into his throat, sealing off his voice.

“Please,” Momo said, slipping back into that first softness, and Nitori found himself nodding before he could really think about it.

Momo’s face smoothed open and joyful, and Nitori sat up a little, angling his face for the kiss he was sure was coming. But Momo just whispered a fierce, “ _thank you_ ” and clambered back up into his bed.

Something solid and disappointed lodged itself under Nitori’s ribs, and he flopped back and closed his eyes.

The next day he received a text that just said “she said yes!!” and a kiss-face emoji. He rolled his eyes and didn’t answer.

+

He expected Momo to be a nervous wreck before the dance itself, expected—kind of looked forward to—helping him with his tux and flower and other arrangements. But Momo was gone when he woke up and stayed gone all day, and Nitori got dressed alone, watching himself as he pulled on his deep blue suit and tied his bowtie, as he clipped the violets into his hair and his buttonhole, the weird lump in his stomach curling tighter and tighter the more he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t feel— _nervous_ , had no reason to be nervous, but the other closest option was _miserable_ and that made even less sense.

When he got to the dance and found no sign of Momo or Yumi he started worrying that something had gone wrong. Had he failed in his senpai duties already? What if Momo had forgotten what day it was, or gotten stuck somewhere and couldn’t pick Yumi up, and his phone was dead and Yumi was waiting forlorn and lonely and—

“S’up, Ai?”

Nitori turned, and felt himself go instantly and embarrassingly red. Rin was smiling down at him with a glint of too-sharp teeth, his hair pulled back from his face and gathered low at the nape of his neck. He wore his simple tux like he was made for it, all dark, lean lines, the rose in his buttonhole just enough shades redder than his hair to complement it perfectly. Nitori felt too small and too dressed up. He wanted to tear off his bowtie; he wanted to run away; he wanted—

“Lookin’ good,” Rin said casually, and he wanted to _die_. Rin looked around. “Where’s your date?”

Nitori dropped his eyes. “I, um. I don’t have one.” He licked his lips. “I’m mostly here to keep an eye on Momo-kun.”

Rin raised an eyebrow at him. “Keep an eye on him?”

Nitori chewed his lip. “There’s this girl he likes and he’s been freaking out about it, so I’ve been helping, I guess?” He shrugged. “He asked me to come, so. Here I am.”

Rin cocked his head. “He asked you to a dance so you could watch him be here with someone else?” He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. “That’s pretty fuckin’ shitty.”

“Oh, no!” protested Nitori, flapping a hand at him. “It’s fine, I really don’t mind.” He glanced around, flustered by the way Rin was examining him. “I just hope he’s having a good time with her, wherever they are.”

Rin looked, too. After a minute he said, “Well, Momo’s over there, but I don’t see any girl.”

Nitori followed his pointing finger. Indeed, Momo was standing by the snack table, holding an empty plate and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Nitori frowned. Rin was right; he looked totally alone. “Excuse me, senpai,” he said.

Rin waved at him. “’Course,” he said. “I should go find Sousuke anyway.”

Nitori nodded, stepping around him, and crossed to Momo, touching his elbow to get his attention. 

Momo spun, and went a little wide-eyed when he saw him. “N-nitori-senpai,” he said. “Wow, you, you look great.”

Nitori smiled at him, some of the knot in his stomach loosening. “Thanks,” he said. “So do you.”

It was true. Momo’s tux fit him well, and Nitori wondered for a minute if he’d taken his advice about emphasizing the shape of his body because it did—Momo was probably _more_ dressed than Nitori had basically ever seen him, but he still found his eyes lingering at the curve of his waist, the solid breadth of his shoulders. Momo’s shirt was a little untucked and his bowtie—black to Nitori’s dove-grey—was crooked, but he’d tamed his wild hair a little into something styled and intentional, and there were gold buttons at his wrists and throat that made his eyes glitter. The tiger lily he had pinned to his chest was just eccentric enough to be charming; Nitori smiled wider and reached out to touch it.

Momo was still staring at him.

Nitori withdrew his fingers and swallowed, glancing around. “Where’s Yumi-san?”

Momo swallowed too, a nervous little bob of his throat. “Funny story,” he said, and scratched the back of his head. “She, uh—turned me down?”

Nitori blinked at him. “She turned you down? For dancing? Is she sitting somewhere, or—?”

Momo shook his head, his cheeks pink. “Sorry, that’s—that’s not true either, senpai.” He gnawed at his lip, more anxious than Nitori had ever seen him. “I was gonna say that she turned me down when I asked her to the dance but I didn’t actually even ask her?” He spread his hands. “Haha! Sorry!”

“Oh,” said Nitori, baffled. “What happened? Did you chicken out?” He licked his lips, trying to read Momo’s face and figure out why he was so nervous. “It’s okay if you did, you know,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not mad that you lied about it, if you were embarrassed to tell me or whatever.”

Momo blew out a breath. “That’s–that’s not why I lied,” he said. He closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath.

Nitori waited a minute, expectant. Momo didn’t move. Nitori licked his lips. “Momo—“

“Senpai!” Momo said loudly, his eyes snapping open. “Dance with me!”

Nitori blinked at him, but Momo was already taking his hands and tugging him onto the dance floor. “Um,” he said, flustered and confused, “okay.”

Momo grinned at him and then one of his hands was tucked against Nitori’s hip, his other folded into his palm and against all expectations he actually knew _how_ to dance, was leading Nitori around the floor with easy, if a bit overly energetic, confidence. His eyes were warm on Nitori’s face and Nitori felt himself flushing under his gaze as the song shifted into something slow and sweet.

Momo’s hand on his waist pulled him close, and Nitori swallowed. This was—a little much, for a joke. He was about to protest and suggest they sit this one out but then Momo was talking, his voice low and conspiratorial and a little bit thready with nerves.

“I lied,” he said, staring out over Nitori’s shoulder, “because I thought you wouldn’t say yes if I asked you straight out.”

Nitori pulled back a little to stare at him. “Wh-what?”

Momo licked his lips, his eyes skittering across his face and away again. “W-well, I really wanted to be here with you but I didn’t think you’d say yes because I can’t tell whether you like me or not and you’ve been so helpful with Yumi-chan that I knew you’d agree to supervise if I told you I was scared—and that’s not really a lie because I am. Pretty scared.” He took a breath. “So I was gonna be like, oh, she stood me up, I guess we have to be each others’ dates!! but then I saw you and you look _amazing_ and I mixed up my lie and I’m pretty bad at lying anyway so I don’t think it would’ve lasted even if I didn’t—“

Nitori finally found his voice. “Momo-kun.”

Momo stumbled to a halt, both in words and in motion, and Nitori took a breath and switched their joined hands, sliding his other over Momo’s side to the small of his back so he was leading. He bent his head a little and Momo mirrored him and Nitori leaned in to speak against his ear. “I would’ve said yes,” he said, because—because the knot in his stomach was gone, and he _would_ have. He knew that with absolute certainty, suddenly and brilliantly and all at once.

Momo’s hand tightened on his. “R-really?” he asked, pulling back so he could look at him properly, and Nitori smiled at him, small and embarrassed. 

Momo _beamed_ , pressing his lips together tight and then grinning open and huge. “So—so you like me?” he asked. “Really?”

Nitori bit his lip, his own smile growing. “Really,” he confirmed, and then Momo was breaking their dancing form and grabbing him around the waist, lifting him bodily up and spinning him around, laughing into the joint of his shoulder and his neck, and Nitori buried his fingers in his hair and squeaked, “oh my god put me _down_.”

Momo did, finally, and Nitori was left standing with him at the edge of the dance floor, his hands still in Momo’s hair, their foreheads tilted together, breathing each others’ air. Momo was still laughing a little and Nitori’s whole body was filled with a kind of incredible lightness, like the feeling of winning a race, like when Rin was proud of him—

Momo blinked slow at him, his laughter fading into little breathy puffs that ghosted warm over Nitori’s mouth, and Nitori stopped thinking about Rin altogether.

He stepped back and glanced around. No one was really paying any attention to them; the music had picked up and everyone was laughing and dancing. Momo was looking at him, a little disappointed that he’d pulled away, and Nitori couldn’t have that—didn’t want him disappointed about anything ever—so he put his hands firmly on his hips and marched him backward, off the dance floor and into a secluded corner. 

Momo blinked at him as his back hit the wall. “N-nitori-senpai?”

Nitori leaned in and brushed a kiss over his cheekbone, felt Momo’s skin heat against his lips. “Oh,” said Momo, and Nitori turned his face with gentle hands and pressed a kiss to his other cheek. “Oh,” he said again, very red.

Nitori kept it up, kissing his temples, his nose, his forehead until Momo’s “oh”’s got impatient and a little petulant, and then he pulled back to raise his eyebrows at him.

Momo pouted his lips a little and pointed to them with a hopeful finger.

Nitori pretended to consider it, folding his own lips into his mouth to keep from smiling. “I don’t know, Momo-kun,” he said, “what’s in it for me?’

Momo scowled at him and then wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Nitori laughed against him and Momo took it as an invitation to stick his tongue in his mouth and, _oh_. Suddenly Nitori felt too hot, suddenly he wasn’t thinking about anything but the slick slide of their mouths, and he tightened his hands on Momo’s hips. 

Momo broke their kiss with a gasp. “How’re you supposed to _breathe_?” he demanded, and Nitori just stared at him, licking his lips. Momo’s gaze drifted to his mouth and then said, “nevermind, don’t care,” and kissed him again.

After a while—dizzy, lightheaded—Nitori pulled away again, his gaze caught on the redness of Momo’s lips. “What, um,” he tried, and then cleared his throat. “What about Yumi-chan?”

Momo shrugged a little, his hands skimming up and down Nitori’s arms. “Oh, she’s great,” he said, “and yeah I was interested at first but turns out she’s super gay and just as into _her_ roommate as I am into you, which, uh, is. A lot.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Most of the times we hung out we just spent talking about you guys,” he admitted.

“Oh,” said Nitori. “Really?”

Momo nodded. “Really.” He grinned. “She gave me the same advice about you as you did about her, which made me laugh a lot.”

“Especially because you totally ignored it,” Nitori pointed out. “Tricking me into coming here wasn’t exactly straightforward _or_ honest.”

“Yeah,” said Momo, unrepentant, and nudged in to kiss his cheek. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

Nitori smiled, and tilted his head so Momo could nuzzle down his jaw to his throat. “I’m glad I came,” he said, “but, um. Now I think I’d like to go h-home?”

Momo pulled back to stare at him. “Yeah?” he said, in that moonlight-soft tone, his eyes liquid gold.

Nitori nodded, his cheeks burning, and Momo threaded their fingers together tight.


End file.
